Neverland's Hero
by keltnmck
Summary: When Peter saves the mysterious girl from Hook, he's not sure what to think. All he knows is that her eyes are like Jane's. And that while she may look like the Darling girls, this girl is definitely not normal. Margaret is Jane's daughter, fearless and clever, and determined to find a way out of Neverland. But what if she finds a reason to stay? (All rights to the author)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Peter

I looked out the window of the Hollow. The sky was an inky black, and clouds blocked out the stars. Looked like a good night for the pirates to try something. That meant I'd have to keep a close watch on them tonight. I sighed, closing the piece of wood that hid the window. I began to reach for my bow, then stopped still. I gasped and quickly slid open the window. Frantically, I searched the skies for the star. That one star that meant so much. The one that meant everything. I found it, and the star winked at me in greeting. I waved back.

How I'd missed that star for the past few days. The storm that was surely only minutes away had been brewing on the shore for nearly three days. For the past two years, I'd watched that star with longing. Wishing for a sign. Anything, to show me that they were watching and wishing too.

And more than any star, I desperately missed them. Of course, I would never admit it, especially to my boys. They needed me. And I knew that if they ever thought that I regretted anything, they would be afraid. Afraid that I would go away, or stop being who I was and lose myself. In truth, I was scared too. Scared that maybe, maybe I _was_ losing myself. What if these feelings, this loneliness unlike anything I'd ever known, were making me grow up? That would be torture like no other. I could never grow up. Or at least I hoped with everything I had.

I knew that everyone aged. Even in Neverland. Yes, I know. But despite what everyone thought, it was true. The thing was, no one knew when they aged here. It was the secret of the island. We only aged when our souls aged.

But then, that also meant that people on the mainland grew normally. And we would never be the same again.

So, as I gazed up at the star, the only things I saw were two pairs of immensely blue eyes. Their eyes. "I'll never forget you. And I'll be waiting," I whispered. Then shut the window and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Margaret

"Margaret, dear, could you come help me for a moment?" Mother called from the kitchen.

I sighed and closed the book I had been in the process of opening. Just when I thought I'd have a moment to myself. I placed it on the dresser and raced down the hall, sliding down the banister of the staircase. I hopped off and swatted at my skirt, brushing away the dust. Then I entered the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are," Mother said as she adjusted the five-year-old on her hip, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but could you finish up with dinner? I have to put the twins down for a quick nap before everyone arrives."

"Yes, mum," I replied. My mother smiled and left the kitchen. I then took the bubbling pot of soup off the stove. I checked the roast, determining that it needed more time and left it alone. Within a few minutes, I had a pan of greens on the stove and two sheets of pastries rolled and in the oven. I hummed a little tune, one that I hadn't heard in years. I stopped for a moment, surprised to hear the notes come off my lips. It brought back sweet memories. Memories I couldn't quite place.

I shook my head sadly and smiled. I pulled myself to the present and stepped into the doorway. Across the hall, my cousin Hannah played quietly in the family room. A bright fire danced beneath the chimney, safely locked away behind an iron gate. Isabelle swayed as she danced in a circle with an imaginary partner. I smiled to myself. I loved their imaginations, though I myself was more of a sensible person. Of course, that didn't mean I wasn't subject to the idea of adventure.

I dried my hands with a towel hanging off the rack and went to them. I snuck up behind Isabelle and took her hand, spinning her around. She gasped, but immediately went along with it and twirled under my arm.

"Sorry to cut in," I said in a ridiculously formal voice, "but may I have this dance?" She laughed and I bent down to her level, bowing deeply.

"Why, yes, you may," she answered, every bit as formal. She offered her hand and I took it gently, placing a light kiss on the back of it. Then I swept her up in my arms and spun. The little girl's legs flew out from beneath her. I began to get dizzy, but couldn't resist her loud giggles begging for more.

"I'm flying!" she squealed. I tossed her into the air and caught her. She shrieked in delight, yelling, "More, more!" I tossed her again, but tripped on one of Hannah's dolls and fell. Isabelle screamed. Time slowed down as I watched my cousin fall. Then, before I knew what was happening, I launched myself into the air and caught her. We both fell in a heap onto the floor.

I looked up into Isabelle's wide eyes. "Are you okay," I asked her quietly. She nodded and opened her mouth to answer, but just then another voice echoed across the hall.

"Margaret Elaine Winters!" I groaned. I glanced up and saw my mother stomping down the stairs. "What do you think you are doing? She could have been hurt, and it would have been your fault," she raved.

"I'm sorry, mum. But look, she's fine. I caught her, didn't I?" I said.

"And you'd better thank the second star you did. Otherwise I wouldn't have let you leave this house until you were thirty!" She tromped over and promptly took Isabelle from my arms. Then she carried her to the kitchen.

As I stood, I noticed Isabelle mouth 'sorry' to me on the way out. I waved sadly. I sighed and gritted my teeth. "Mar?" Hannah asked uncertainly from the floor.

"I'm sorry, Hannah, but I have to go." With that, I trudged up the stairs.

Later, I found myself among the bustle of my family. Grandma and Grandpapa had come for dinner, along with my aunt and uncle. Aunt Elizabeth was talking to my mother about some woman at the bank. Grandpapa, my father, Uncle Danny, and his god-son James were playing cards in the corner. Grandma was telling stories to the twins while Hannah and Isabelle played. And me? Well, I was sitting at the piano, alternately practicing and reading my book.

"Granny, granny, guess what happened today," Isabelle cried. I raised my head and watched as my grandmother sat my little sister, Cate, on her lap.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I flew! I flew across the room!" Isabelle danced on the couch, mimicking herself flying through the air.

"Did you really?" my grandmother asked. She pulled Isabelle to her, "How was it?"

"Amazing!"

"Do you know who else can fly?" my mother asked in that voice she always uses with the twins.

"Tinkerbell!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Yes! That's exactly right, Hannah, darling," my mother said, "The bravest fairy there ever was."

"What about Peter Pan?" Carter, Cate's twin, asked from the floor.

"Peter Pan could fly, too," Grandma said.

"In fact, he was very good at it," Mother continued.

"Can you tell us the story again?" Cate asked.

My mother and grandmother looked at each other and said, "I suppose so." With that, they took off weaving a story for the children. I listened, eagerly waiting for my favorite parts. Silently cheering in my head at the main character's victories. I'd always loved a happy ending. At some point, that tune began playing in my head again. It brought a warm, fuzzy feeling to my heart, and I wrapped my arms around myself. Blurry memories spun in my mind. Laughter, happiness, freedom. It was a beautiful feeling.

A feeling that I would never truly know. Not now. Not after what happened.

I dragged myself back into reality. Dwelling on the past wouldn't do me any good. I tried to focus on practicing the piano, but my grandmother's stories and the confusing array of images kept finding a way through. Once, I might have even drifted off into a daydream, and Peter Pan came and flew me away. I sighed, knowing that it was impossible.

"By the way, Isabelle, you never told us how you managed to fly," my grandmother commented.

"Oh, yes, well you might want to ask your granddaughter about that," my mum replied coolly.

I groaned, "Mum, I've already apologized and she's perfectly fine."

Grandmother raised an eyebrow. "She tossed Isabelle into the air and nearly dropped her," Mum answered, "You need to be more careful, Margaret. What if something had happened to her? If she could have been terribly hurt, and what if she hadn't recovered? You wouldn't want to ruin her childhood." I gritted my teeth. Of course not.

"Jane, that's enough, dearest," my father said, "She's apologized, she understands what could have happened. There's no need to remind her." His tone held some sort of warning to it.

"Are you suggesting something, Jeremy, dear? You know very well that I would never -" my mother was cut off.

"Jer, sis, please, can we not have this conversation here? The children," Uncle Danny whispered harshly. "It was just a freak accident that probably won't happen again."

"I'm just trying to prevent you and your daughters from having to go through what ours did," Mum said.

"It's not really something you can prevent, Jane. Besides, I'm fairly sure that your living room isn't going to catch on fire just because my daughter fell."

"That's not what I meant," my mother growled, "I just don't want your daughters to have their innocence taken from them at such a young age. My daughter -"

"Enough!" I screamed. I stood and slammed my hand down on the piano keys, scaring the children. "I'm not a child. I don't need you to protect me, and I don't need you to pretend everything is fine. This is pointless! No amount of arguing is going to heal the scars on my back, or recover my memory," I sobbed, "It won't bring Charles back. So just… stop." I fled up the stairs and slammed the door to an empty room. I collapsed onto the window seat, trying to swallow the ugly gasps and the torrent of tears streaming down my face. I couldn't be doing this. Not now. Not now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Margaret

I wasn't a child. They didn't need to walk on eggshells around me, but could they at least try not to blatantly ignore the fact that I was twenty feet away when they were arguing about what happened? About the tragedy that had directly affected me? And because of said tragedy they never let me do anything, including playing with my cousins. I was fifteen, I could take care of myself.

_Stop it, Mar,_ I thought to myself, _No matter how much they pretend to handle it, they can't. They're looking to you. If _you _can't pull it together, they never will. You mustn't let them see you cry. You're fine_

_You're fine_.

I looked up and noticed that I was in my old nursery. It was the only part of the house that had fully survived the fire, except for a few streaks of burnt wood in the floor and the doorway. But both had been repaired long ago. Any physical signs of what had happened were now gone. You'd never have known there had even been a fire. All of the new materials used blended in perfectly with the old. So now the only things left to fix were my shattered memories. That and Charles. But nothing could ever bring him back to us now.

I ripped away those burning thoughts, wiping away all traces of misery. Looking around the nursery, I realized how much it had stayed the same. The old crib that my great uncle Michael had used as a child, passed on to my mum and uncle, and then to me and my siblings, still sat against the wall. My mother's old doll house. My old bed from when I was a child. At least I was pretty sure. It's what Mum and Dad had told me, but even that memory was fuzzy. What I did remember were somber days sitting in here after the fire, trying to regain my childhood. I could only remember half of it, my childhood. I remember events and people or sometimes days that would stick out. But the rest was just a bunch of images that were blacked out and fuzzy, like someone had taken a pair of scissors or an eraser to them. Feelings, specific details. They were what was missing. Some things that were clear though, were images of Charles.

Thinking back now, I was sure after all those years he still wouldn't have changed, if he were here. I was the one who had changed so much. If only…

"It still looks just like it did when I was a child," a voice said. I raised my head and saw my grandmother standing in the doorway.

"I was just thinking that," I said, trying to dry the tear stains on my cheeks. My grandmother came over and sat next to me on the window seat, looking wistful. She opened he mouth, but I cut her off. "You don't have to say anything," I told her, "I'm fine."

She smiled, "I know, darling. I know." We sat there for a while, staying silent. My grandmother was a big believer in the idea that the best way to comfort someone was to just be with them. Suddenly she laughed. It was a sweet, soft sound. Like a trickle of music, a small run of notes. I watched her quizzically as she softly stepped over to an old book shelf and picked something up from it. She held it tenderly in her hands, like a precious jewel. No, it was more loving, actually, like she was holding a newborn baby.

"I don't know if you remember, but I used to tell stories when you were children. To you and your brother. But I think you really liked them, Charles especially. This was yours," she whispered. She held out the thing in her hands and I finally saw what it was. A doll. It was obviously a boy, with a green outfit and a red feather in his cap. He even had a small felt sword in his belt, which was odd for a children's toy.

"Peter Pan," I whispered, surprising myself. Where did I learn that? Had it really been something from my past?

"You remember!" my grandmother gasped. A bright smile lit up her face, and it had something that I couldn't really explain.

"I- I guess," I said, still not sure, "But I don't even remember thinking of it. It just sort of, came out."

My grandmother smiled sadly, handing me the doll. "Then I shall remind you," she replied. She sat down, gathering me in her arms. I leaned my head against her shoulder and listened to her tell the tales of Peter Pan. It was funny, almost, how as she spoke, I could recall certain details of the stories that she left out. For the first time, I remembered the missing pieces.

"He seems kind of full of himself, doesn't he Granny?" I commented at one point.

She laughed, "Oh yes. Not quite full of himself, I would say. But yes, he's a very cocky boy. But he's also very loyal, brave, and caring. I'm sure you will love him, when he comes."

I sat up. "What?"

"He promised me, Margaret. He promised he'd come for me and he did. He just didn't get there in time," my grandmother said, looking sad for a moment, "He ended up taking Jane. Oh, she loved it there, though, and I'm glad."

"Wait, you actually believe that Peter Pan is real? That girl in your stories is you? And… Mother?" I asked.

"Margaret, I know you don't believe me, but yes. Your mother didn't believe it either at first. She thought it was a dream, but now she wishes that she could have stayed."

"Granny," I said, "Are you sure?"

She sighed, "Yes, darling, I'm perfectly sure. Now I know you think I'm a complete nutter right now, but you'll see. I promise." She kissed my forehead and left.

I laid there and tried to make sense of it. Tried to believe like my grandmother, who so obviously loved Peter Pan. But I just couldn't. I almost wished I could though, so that he would come down and save me from this mess. But I was too tired to listen. Too old to believe all these childish stories. There was no such thing as faith, trust, and pixie dust as my grandmother said. It was just an old fairytale to give kids the 'you can do anything if you believe' message. But still, I tried. I tried so hard to believe. But I couldn't see it. Eventually I fell asleep.

I woke to a cold breeze flowing over me. I sat up quickly. The window was open. I was sure it had been closed when I fell asleep. I puzzled over it and looked down, noticing that I was still holding the doll. I sighed and began to close the window, but a bright glint from behind stopped me. I gasped and turned around slowly.

"Hello, Jane, darling," said a tall man in an overly large red coat. He twirled the silver hook attached to his wrist, and then my sight was blocked by a burlap bag. Someone's fist hit me in the stomach, forcing the air out of my lungs. I felt someone pick me up and carry me in the bag. For a moment, I was weightless, before my back slammed into hard wood, winding me again. I found a tear in the bag and peeked out of it. I could see a few greasy-haired men, but not much else. I heard laughter. It was a harsh, cackling sound that sent shivers up my spine. But it was the sly voice that spoke next which chilled my very heart.

"Calm yourselves, boys. We have the upper hook, but this isn't finished yet. Don't cheer until the rooster stops crowing," it said. This caused a bit more laughter from the other men, but I didn't get the joke.

I struggled and finally managed to pop my head though the top of the bag. I gasped. I was on a ship, and it was full of large and dangerous looking men. I looked over the side and had to remind myself to breathe. The ship was _flying_ over London and getting higher up with every second. Someone shoved me back into the sack, tying it tighter. I peeked through the rip again. The tall man I'd seen before was barking orders at the others. I deduced that he was the man I'd heard speaking earlier. That was when my grandmother's words came back to me. I didn't want to believe it but –

A bright light flashed, and a tunnel opened up in the sky. I gaped as we passed through and we entered a completely different world. The sky was dark, but I could still see the massive island looming beneath us. It glittered with a beautiful, yet somewhat eerie, light. Almost like it was pulsing with magic and life. When the ship crashed into the dark waters around the island, I couldn't deny it anymore. This ship, these men around me, were pirates, I was sure. And the island, this land…

I was in Neverland.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Margaret

"Alright you dogs, get your acts together and head for Hangman's Bay," the man with the red coat barked. I tore at the rip in the bag, trying to get a better look at him. When I did, I could barely hold back my cry of alarm. He had shoulder-length black hair that fell in waves, a sly grin, and eyes darker than the night. It was frightening. And even more frightening was the large silver hook where his hand should have been. I had no doubt. This was the notorious Captain Hook from my grandmother's stories.

He turned and looked at me. I scrambled back and accidently hit my head on the rail of the ship. I rubbed the back of my head, cursing. Peering back out, I met the eyes of the captain, who was suddenly right in front of me. I screamed.

"Good God," he said, covering his ears. "Boys, hang 'er on the sail rig. It's time our dear friend Peter got what's coming to him."

He waved his hand at me as he walked away. Two rough looking pirates came over and grabbed the burlap bag I was in. As the hefted me up, I kicked out at them. I was rewarded with a pained grunt from one of the men and a punch to my side.

"Be a good girl and or I won't be so nice next time," one of them growled.

"Haha, make sure you let me take a hit at 'er, Cregan," the other laughed, "I hear the feisty ones are always the most fun." Cold fear pierced my heart at this, and anger boiled in my gut. Who did these guys think they were? I struggled the entire way they carried me, and kicked the pirates again for good measure.

"Now, now, men," Hook said sweetly, "Play nice, and later I might let you have some fun with her before she dies."

They set me down hard a few minutes later and tied a rope around the bag. I watched carefully, making sure I knew exactly how to undo it. But what I didn't expect was when they called up to someone above us and I slowly began to rise up.

I tore the bag again and found that they were pulling me up to the sail rigs. They secured the rope when I was about six feet from the rig. I reached my hands though the rip in the bag and began untying the rope that closed it. I heard someone yell, "Summon the beast!" and pushed myself to work faster. Who knew what these nut jobs were up to?

Suddenly the rig swung to the side and caused me to tumble around in the bag. The bag ripped more and my foot fell out. I found that I was hanging over the bay, and the water beneath me was bubbling and rolling. A giant tentacle burst from the surface and hit the ship. The ship rocked and all the pirates braced themselves. My fear dissipated as I began to work at the ropes again. I focused my mind. Determination and the need to free myself took over. Peeking out of the tear, I saw Hook and the other pirates looking over the edge and up at the sky. I leaned forward to get a better look at what they were trying to see. And then the bag opened.

I tumbled out with a R-I-I-I-P so loud it would have made me cringe. You know, if the earth wasn't dropping out from under me at the moment. I was proud of myself for holding back the scream that tried to claw its way out of my throat. I flailed around for what seemed an eternity, but somehow I managed to flip myself in midair and grab onto the rough cloth that used to be the bag. It jolted me, jerking my shoulders hard, and I thought my arms might just rip right out of their sockets. I pulled myself up, straining to get to the rope. If the rest of that old rag tore off, I wasn't going to be hanging onto it. I climbed up and got a little relief when I finally clung halfway up the rope and could set my feet on the knot at the bottom. It gave me a sense of security, however small, at least for a moment.

Then again, maybe my senses weren't very well defined, because that was when the crazy flying leaf-boy decided to show up. Out of nowhere, a flash of green zoomed above me. I looked around, attempting to find what it was, but was distracted by loud boasts from below.

"Just think, Smee, soon that retched boy will be nothing but a notch in my…" Hook was saying. He stopped and glared at the squat little man next to him, "What are you looking at, Smee?"

Smee pointed to Hook's head. "Cap'n, didn't you have your hat a minute ago?"

"Why yes of course, Smee, what are you blabbering abou - " Hook gasped in bewilderment as he felt the place where his hat had been. I had begun climbing again, but stopped when I noticed the odd shadows in the rigging above me. A bright laugh bubbled from the air around the mast.

"Looking for something, Captain?" chuckled the voice. The pirates glanced up, and I prayed that they wouldn't see me. I peered upward and there, lounging on the sail rigs, was a boy of about my age. He was wearing a dark green shirt covered with green and yellow leaves. The feather in the cap laying on his chest matched his dark auburn-brown hair. I could see the mischief in his brown eyes. I nearly fell when he rolled off the rigs and flipped in the air. And he _stood _upright twenty feet above the ship, as if there was an invisible floor in the sky. He laughed as he pulled a dagger from his belt and sliced up the floppy velvet hat he'd been wearing. From the steam I could practically see coming out of Hook's ears, I figured it was his.

Hook shouted something like "get him!" and the ship turned into chaos. I used the distraction to haul myself the rest of the way into the rigging. I took my first full breath since coming into this strange land as I laid back against the sail. I reminded myself never to complain about all of my gymnastics and athletic training that my father insisted I do. Then I leaned over to get a look at what was going on.

The leaf-boy was wreaking havoc down below. Fighting two men at once with only a knife, then quickly leaping into the air to buzz some of the pirates in the lower rigs, then engaging in another match just as fast. The boy was a blur as he set to harassing the men. I couldn't help but giggle at some of his witty comments though. It was hilarious. He shot up into the air again and began to perform an acrobatics routine on the sail ropes.

"You know, last night I could swear I'd seen a ship flying to the mainland," he said, "But you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now would you, Captain?"

"Peter, come down here," Hook called.

"And why would I be that stupid?" the boy called back. Something clicked in my brain. Peter. Flying. Leaf-boy. Peter.

_Peter Pan._

I was left breathless for a second, then told myself that I shouldn't have been surprised. Everything else was real. Why not Peter Pan?

"Now, boy, I've got a little something for you," Hook said.

"A present? Ah, you really shouldn't have," Peter Pan said as he leaned against the ropes.

"Who's that little girl that used to follow you? Jane, was it?" Hook grinned evilly as he gestured to the bag I'd been held in.

"Jane?" Peter cried. But I noticed an odd look in his eyes. He knew, somehow he knew that whatever his little 'gift' was, it wasn't my mother. "That's impossible."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Prove it," Peter growled, his voice scary.

"Alright, then, you want proof?" the captain asked, "Then you can fish it out of the water." Then he cut a rope with his sword, and the rope and bag beneath me fell into the bay. Thinking fast, I balled up my shirt and bit into it, screaming as if I was still in the bag. I felt guilty though, because Peter dove right in after it, and three large tentacles shot out of the water to grab him. From my angle, I could see that they didn't catch him, but he disappeared under the surface and the water became calm. There was cheering from the pirates below.

I felt a stray and sudden tear run down my cheek. I guessed that it was because, even if I hadn't known him, I had admired him slightly for the few minutes I'd seen. Plus, it was just sad. After a moment, I climbed down the mast, thinking that the pirates wouldn't see me in their celebrating. I was halfway down when a flash of green caught my eye.

I was the only one who saw him emerge from the water, still flying strong. But he's lost his cheerful attitude. The pirates gasped when Peter's dagger stuck into the door, right under the curve of the captain's hook. The captain turned from where'd he'd been going into a cabin, utter shock on his face. It was a bit laughable how much his and Peter's expressions differed from one another. Hook's held fear and disbelief, while Peter's was one of complete rage.

"A right nasty trick that was," he said, throwing the empty burlap bag at the captain. I scrambled down the mast, hoping to use Peter as a distraction. Stepping carefully to avoid alerting the pirates, I crept forward. I had to step over an unconscious man to get to the upper level of the ship. I stopped and thought for a moment, then crouched down and slid the knife from the man's belt.

"How- How are you still alive?" Hook cried.

"Where's the girl?" Peter asked. He scowled at Hook's confused expression, "I heard a scream, where'd she go?"

"But she was…" Hook shook his head, then stared at the bag. His eyes grew wide as he noticed the me-sized rip. His hand twitched slightly.

_Time to go_, I thought. I darted up the stairs and ran for the edge of the boat, aiming to jump over the side and swim to safety. I should have aimed higher, because there was no way I was going to get over the seven-foot wall of pure muscle in front of me. The giant man appeared out of nowhere and I slammed into him at top speed. It was like trying to run through a brick wall. He grabbed my arms and lifted me up. I struggled, but was no match for his iron grip. He carried me over to the rail looking over the rest of the ship.

"Guess you didn't hear me," Peter said, getting close to Hook and raising his dagger, "Where is the girl?"

"The girl was trying very hard not to be noticed," I said, "and would have appreciated it if you hadn't drawn attention to her, thank you very much." Both Hook and Peter spun and looked at me.

Peter's expression was distraught, "Jane?"

"Not quite," I replied with an apologetic smile. The pirate holding me slapped me across the face, telling me to shut up. I saw Peter tense. "It's Margaret," I told him.

Peter blinked, "Then what are you - "

"Look out!" I yelled. The man holding me clapped a hand over my mouth, but thankfully Peter got the message. He turned and leapt out of the way just in time, countering Hook's wild attempt to stab him with his sword. Peter disarmed him, knocking Hook in the head with the butt of his dagger. I bit down on the man's hand until I tasted blood. He shouted in pain and released me. I grabbed the knife he'd taken from me and ran.

"Come on!" Peter yelled from across the platform. I sprint towards him and he grabbed my wrist. He leaped into the air, taking me with him. A large hand wrapped around my ankle. I kicked at him, then swiped at him with the knife I'd stolen. The blade sliced into the man's hand and he let go, falling into the bay.

With that, Peter and I flew away from the ship to safety. Or at least I hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Kenna here. I just want to thank all of you who've read my story so far. I hope you still like it as it goes along. I also want to apologize for not saying anything earlier. I'm brand new to the fanfiction family, and I have no idea how to make an author's note. (If any of you know, please review and tell me. And if I'm doing it right, you should still review. :) ) Anyway, I own all my characters except Peter, Hook, some Lost Boys, etc. And yes, if you've read the actual book, Margaret really is Jane's daughter. Thanks a lot to everyone! I'm really excited for my story, and can't wait to finish it. So, without further ado, Chapter 5!**

**-Kenna**

**P.S. I will update as much as possible**

Chapter 5 Peter

Something jerked us back and my grip on the girl's hand slipped. I glanced down in time to see her slash at the man attached to her ankle. The guy cried out and splashed into the water below us. Without the added weight, we shot up into the air fast. Once out of range, I alighted on a cloud and flopped face-first into the fluffy down. The girl stumbled, but managed to stay up right. She let out a big sigh, and mumbled something I couldn't quite hear. There was cloud fluff in my ear.

"What?" I asked through a mouthful of cloud. I coughed and brushed some hair out of my eyes.

"I said," the girl replied a bit breathlessly, "that went well."

"Real funny," I said. I groaned and leaned my head against the heel of my hand.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked quietly. I was about give a sarcastic remark when she said, "I'm sorry you had to do that."

I rolled over onto my back. After taking a moment to catch my breath, I sat up, draping an arm over my knee. Flying us both had rained me of energy. I squinted at her. "You're apologizing? About what?"

"Well, everything. If they hadn't baited you, you wouldn't have had to fight them. And if I hadn't gotten myself caught, you could have just flown off, instead of rescuing me and dragging me along. So, I'm sorry for causing you any trouble," she said, "And what you did, it was kind of amazing. I never could have done something like that." Looking at her now, I wasn't so sure about that. The girl was leaning against a cloud formation, twirling a knife in her hands. She had an intelligent, determined look in her eyes. Something I'd never seen before, especially in a girl. And the way she'd fought against the pirates was admirable. She didn't even seem out of breath. Though I would never admit it, I was impressed.

I laughed and the girl gave me a quizzical look. "It's just that most girls don't apologize for having to be rescued. Usually they thank me and go on their way," I told her, "Speaking of which…"

She raised an eyebrow, "You must not have met many decent girls then." I frowned. The corner of her mouth lifted a little in amusement. "Thanks, but no thanks," she said, "You got me out of there and I'm grateful, but I could have escaped by myself. Maybe not by flying into clouds, but I could have done it. Now all I need is to get back to where I came from."

I gaped at her. Her words were like a slap in the face. I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of them. "Well, I- um… wait a minute I-" I stuttered. I looked up to see the girl smirking at me, "Are you teasing me?"

"Looks like it worked," she laughed, "Thank you, Peter, for helping me get away from Hook."

"Real funny," I replied. I shook my head, laughing to myself. I couldn't believe I'd fallen for it. I stood. "Nice work back there, by the way," I said, "How'd you learn to use a knife?"

"I didn't," the girl shrugged. "I just stole it from one of the pirates and tried to the guy off of me." I gazed at her for a moment.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"I already told you. It's Margaret," the girl answered with a confused expression.

"Right, I guess you did," I said. "Well, Margaret, how did you get to be on Hook's ship?"

"He came to my house and grabbed me. Just shoved me in a bag and flew the ship over straight over London, and then we ended up here."

"Wait, wait a minute," I said, "You flew? Over London? Isn't that on the Mainland?"

"I guess, is that what you call it?" Margaret asked, "Why?"

"Well because…" I thought for a second, "Hey, Hook said that you were Jane. He knows what she looked like, why would he think it was you?"

"Probably because I'm her daughter. I don't know. Why would he want her in the first place?" she asked. A lump formed in my chest and it became hard to breathe. I had to sit down and try to force air into my lungs.

"Her- Her daughter?" I asked breathlessly. "I… um…"

"Hey are you okay?" Margaret asked me worriedly. "Look I'm sorry. My granny told me that you were really close friends with them, so it's okay if you take it a little hard. But, growing up's not exactly something you can prevent," she said, crouching down.

"Yeah," I whispered, "I know exactly what you mean." She looked a bit thoughtful at this, but didn't question me further. "But it's fine. Actually, Hook brought you here thinking that he could probably throw me off. Just wanted to scare me, nothing serious,"

"Oh, yes," she said, "I'm sure the giant squid thing was just a little joke, am I right?"

"Hilarious," I replied. She snickered, causing her shoulders to shake a little, and it made me smile.

She glanced at me. "How did he do it?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Live," Margaret said, "I'm not an expert on the whole story, but I'm fairly sure that Hook got swallowed by a giant alligator."

"Crocodile," I corrected.

"Either way," she frowned, "I may be wrong, but don't people usually die from stuff like that? But now, Hook is up and feeling good enough to kidnap me. And, maybe it's just the lack of an apparently hacked off alarm clock, but it seems like there's a new man-eating monster that Hook favors."

"Hook tore open the crocodile's stomach and escaped. Now I think he has the angry alarm clock as a souvenir." I glanced at Margaret in time to see her shudder. "The giant squid's new though. It's been hanging around outside the bay for a few months, but Hook's a fool for bringing it inland. It's just one more thing for us to have to deal with. As if this crazy storm system wasn't enough."

"Storm system?" Margaret asked.

"Yeah. It's been hanging just offshore for days now. The islander's don't know what to think of it, and the Boys and I were going to check it out," I explained.

"So… is it safe to be on this cloud right now?" she asked, examining the pile of fluff holding us up. I nodded, intending to explain further, but Margaret kept talking. "Because I realize you're using the cloud so that it can float us over to the island, but the wind's been picking up a lot in the past few minutes. And the cloud's turned black…"

"What?" I bolted up, looking around. Sure enough, she was right. The cloud beneath us had turned a dark gray, and the fluff was sticky, like it was full of rainwater. "Okay, don't panic, but we're going to have to jump," I said. Margaret was already up and leaning over the side. I was surprised to see that we were floating over the island. "Alright, we have to plan this carefully so we don't get hurt…"

"No time," Margaret said, "Now!" She pulled me forward and dove off the cloud just as a crack of thunder shook the air. A bolt of lightning raked the sky, coming extremely close to us. The air around us sizzled and popped. Soon we were free falling to the earth, and I grabbed Margaret and held her close to me. I still wasn't strong enough to carry us both, but I could still try to protect her. She pressed her small body close, hiding her face in my chest. I did the same, leaning my head on her shoulder.

We crashed into a tree limb on the way down. The impact was jarring. Thankfully, it didn't hit either of our backs. It hit our shoulders instead, and I let out a gasp of pain. The limb cracked and broke, coming between myself and Margaret and forcing us apart. I braced myself for the impact I knew would come when I would hit the ground. The possible broken or fractured bones. But I didn't expect a splash to come with it.

I hit the water with a _floom!_ of bubbles. The air whooshed out of me, and I instinctively closed my mouth. I opened my eyes, surprised to see the water and swarm of bubbles surrounding me. I swam upwards, kicking out with my feet in a rhythmic pattern. When I burst through the surface, I gulped in air like I thought I'd never get enough. After a moment, I looked around for Margaret, but couldn't find her. I was about to go back under and search for her, when there was a splash and she broke the surface, panting. I swam over to her and wrapped my arms around her but she waved me off.

"I know how to tread water," she snapped. I released her. "Sorry," she said, "Didn't mean to sound like that. Was still trying to… catch my breath."

"It's okay, I just wasn't sure if you were hurt or not," I replied.

She checked herself and shrugged, "A little banged up, but I'm alright. You?"

I shook my head, "Same. Are you sure you're okay?"

She grinned at me, "I'm fine, Peter." I smiled to myself. I couldn't help but admire her strength. "I'm sorry," Margaret said, "I didn't realize the tree was there when I jumped."

I laughed. "Are you serious?" I asked her, "We just jumped hundreds of feet off of a cloud, and we're both fine, and you're apologizing? Another second and we would have been burned to a crisp. You saved us."

"I guess so," she said shyly. We both swam towards the shore. Margaret had steered us into a small pond when she jumped.

"How did you know we wouldn't land on the shore?" I asked her.

"I don't know. I just looked over the side, saw the pond, then jumped and hoped for the best," she said.

"Good to know you had such a well thought-out plan," I answered sarcastically.

"Sorry, but there wasn't really any time for a proper strategy plan. Next time I'll ignore the lightning and work it all out first, sound good to you?" she retorted. I laughed, then helped her out of the water. I winced a little when I reached out with my arm, but ignored it. Margaret noticed though.

"You're hurt," she said flatly. She immediately sat me down and examined my arm. She started twisting it this way and that, then raising it and lowering it.

"It's fine," I told her, "Really, it's only a little- ow! Hey, what are you doing?"

"Hold still and quit squirming," Margaret replied harshly like an old nurse. "I don't really think there's anything to fix it, but it's definitely bruised. Maybe you pulled something."

"It's probably just sore from where we hit that tree," I told her, "It's nothing." Margaret nodded and started to stand, then stopped. She sent me an icy glare then jerked up my sleeve and pointe to the cut on my tricep.

"What is this?" she demanded.

"I told you, it's nothing. Just where Hook cut me with his sword. Don't worry, I can't even feel it," I lied. Margaret stared straight at me with an unbelieving expression. It was almost frightening. "Fine," I said, "I'm hurt."

She rolled her eyes, then ripped off a strip from the bottom of her shirt and grabbed a piece of moss. She pressed the moss against my wound and wrapped the strip around it. She tied it tight, smiled with satisfaction when she was done.

"There," she said, "Nothing else to do except to wait, then, I guess."

"Thanks," I replied. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, and my mid wandered. "That was clever," I said to her, "How you figured out what I was using the cloud for, then knowing exactly when to get off."

Margaret shrugged, "Intuition I suppose. And yes, I am known to be able to figure out stuff like that. Plus, I was watching the sky while we were up there. I could tell the cloud was floating towards the island. That's what led me to that conclusion."

I smiled. "That's how you got away, wasn't it?" I asked. "I'd been wondering how you'd escaped earlier, but now it makes sense. Somehow you opened the bag and got down the mast by using me as a distraction, didn't you?" Margaret nodded.

"Yes," she said, "I did. That was pretty clever of yourself, to figure it out." She smiled at me. "There was a rip in the bag they put me in. I used it to watch how they tied the ropes around it. The after they hung me up, I reached my hands through the tear and tried to untie them. But the bag ripped and I fell out. It was only sheer luck that I managed to grab on before I fell into the water. Then you came and nearly made me fall. Three times. I used your arrival as a distraction so that I could pull myself up and climb down the mast. That's when I stole this," she said, holding up her knife, "and I was almost off the ship when Hook figured it out. When I saw that, I ran, but a pirate grabbed me. You know the rest from there."

After listening to her story, I sat there in awe for a moment. "That's… Incredible," I told her, "Really. I don't know anyone else who would think of that, much less be able to do it."

Margaret looked up at me, "Thanks, Peter. Now I just have to figure out a way…" She trailed off, seeming to retreat into herself. I waited for her to finish, but she didn't. My hand twitched and moved as if to reach out to her. Once I realized what was happening, I quickly snatched it back, scolding myself. What had I been about to do? A strange feeling came over me, and I realized that I had been about to take her hand. The thought sent an odd tingling down my spine. I glanced over at Margaret. She hadn't seemed to notice anything strange, but her shoulders were tensed.

I found myself growing sad. I didn't like this shy, distant, mysteriously wounded side of her. It was just… not Margaret. Almost like a completely different person from the brave, clever, and confident girl that I'd already grown to admire and love.

No, not love. Even thinking the word was dangerous.

"Peter, I have to…" Margaret whispered. She trailed off again, but the look in her eyes said it all.

"You want to leave, don't you?" I replied.

"No," she said firmly, then slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. "I- I mean, I… Oh, I don't know," she mumbled. She peeked up at me, her eyes shining, "My mother… I couldn't bear to see…" Margaret held her head in her hands and sighed in exasperation. "I don't know what would happen if she lost me, too. After Charles…" Her last words were choked out, pull of pain and regret.

After a few awkward, silent minutes, I stood up. "Come on," I said, reaching a hand out to her, "We need to get back to the Hollow and dry up. We can figure how to get you home later."

Margaret looked up at my outstretched hand, any pain or worry wiped from her expression. Her eyes flicked from my hand to my face, then back again. Her expression softened, and relief gleamed in her eyes. She sent me a suspicious, knowing smile. And I knew she'd figured it out. That I was lending her a way out, giving her time so that she wouldn't half to go home right away.

"B- Besides," I said, trying to change the subject, "my Boys are probably looking for me as we speak." Margaret took my hand and I helped her up.

"Your boys?" she asked. Then she nodded, "Oh, right. The Lost Boys. Haha, you know, it's kind of funny how you think of them as 'yours'."

I was a little dumbstruck. "Well, they, er… um… They're under my… Well, you see, they're not really mine…" I stopped, unable to find anything to say.

Then Margaret laughed. She turned to me, smiling, as we began our walk to the Hollow. "I'm teasing, Peter," she said, "I think it's actually kind of sweet." This didn't help me much. Margaret wrung out her dripping hair and continued, "Of course you think of them like that. You love them. They're your family."

I cringed a bit at the word 'love'. Margaret noticed. She gave me a weird look, but didn't say anything. Instead she retreated to her own thoughts. I took a moment to think about her words. At first, I had shied away from the word, like a cockroach avoided the light. Just like I always had. But, the way Margaret used it, made me think of the word in a new way.

"Peter," Margaret spoke hesitantly, "I get the feeling that no one's ever explained to you what love really is." I stiffened, but kept walking. "There are different kinds of love, you know. There's love that you can have for all people, by showing kindness and compassion. There's also love for your family, like the love you have for the Lost Boys. And then there's love for one person in particular, like my mum and dad."

I watched her out of the corners of my eyes, unwilling to let her know that I was interested. Margaret was pulling her long, dark hair back into a ponytail, looking straight ahead as she navigated the forest. "Love, Peter, is giving up your own needs for someone else's. It's throwing away everything in order to help them. When you love somebody, you know that you would do anything for them, even give up your life…" Margaret choked up, as if remembering something painful. It hurt me to see her like that. I wished that I could do something to help her. "Wouldn't you do that?" she whispered.

"What?" I asked, my voice coming out strangled and higher-pitched. I coughed and tried again, "Um, what?"

"For the Lost Boys," she said, "Wouldn't you do that for them?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," I replied.

"Then they're yours. You love them, and my father always said that if you love someone, it makes them yours."

I stayed silent for a while after that. In truth, I was stunned. I'd never heard anything like that before, and it had hit me hard. Touched deep. "That's… a nice way to think," I finally said.

Margaret nodded, "My dad's always been able to look on the brighter side of things. Been able to see the good in everything."

"It takes a lot of strength to do that," I reflected, "Maybe that's where you got it."

Margaret glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes, her gaze penetrating. "I'm not that strong," she said. I didn't say anything, but I wasn't so sure. This girl wasn't your the normal 'damsel in distress' that you heard about every day.

"I wasn't kidding though, I could have done it," the girl whispered, almost to herself. It took me a moment, but I realized that she was talking about escaping Hook's ship.

"I'm sure you could have," I said just as quietly, surprising myself. Her intense gaze turned to me. My heart skipped, and I stopped still. I had to remind myself to breathe after a minute. Her eyes… They were, stunning. They weren't your normal pretty blue or something. No, they were a striking stormy gray. Piercing and sharp with intelligence and wonder. It was astounding.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Um, uh, come on. The Hollow's just over the rise," I said. I raced up the hill and stopped at the top. From there, I could see the disguised treehouse I called home. I turned around, noticing Margaret hanging back a bit.

"Peter," she whispered. I met her eyes. Her astounding gray eyes.

"Yes," I whispered back.

"Thank you," she replied. Then she looked down into the ravine, scanning the area, and smiled. She turned to me and stared walking backwards down the hill. "Race you!" she said excitedly. Then she laughed and flew down the hill. I laughed, then raced her to the Hollow. I didn't know what it was, but I got the feeling that this girl, this clever, mysterious girl was going to be different than the others. She definitely wasn't like Wendy, who was creative but simple. And she wasn't Jane either, who was smart but strict. No, she wasn't like the other Darlings.

Margaret was her own. She was extremely different. And I thought I was going to like that.


End file.
